A Hogwarts Christmas Carol
by 2NiCe4U
Summary: Seven years have passed since the war against Voldemort, and Severus has not been able to let go of his bitterness. He might need a bit of otherworldly help...
1. Malfoy's Ghost

A/N: Hi everybody! I know it's been a while, but I promise I've been working on quite a few things simultaneously. This story I wanted to push out before Christmas, considering the subject matter of it. There will be five chapters to it, just as in the book. I hope you all enjoy it and your reviews help encourage me, so thanks in advance!

Disclaimer: Unfortunately I wasn't brilliant enough to come up with Rowling's Harry Potter or Dickens' A Christmas Carol first, so I've decided to meld the two authors' amazing works into one body of fiction, at no profit more than my enjoyment and hopefully yours!

A Hogwarts Christmas Carol

Chapter 1: Malfoy's Ghost

Severus Snape was bent over essays, writing blistering commentary in red ink across the standard black on the parchment in the barely-there light of a single candle. He was often found thus, at the end of a day, and Christmas Eve was no exception. He'd made those students of his who had stayed for the holiday write an essay on the various poisons made with Holly. It was just payment in his eyes, considering the fact that they chose to ruin his holiday by imposing themselves on him. They had grumbled to themselves, but no one argued with Snape, especially not these days.

The war against Voldemort had been seven years previous, but still, the echoes of it seemed to haunt Severus Snape. He acted no better than before, sometimes even worse. It made everyone fear him and leave him alone, which, coincidentally, was exactly what he wanted. Severus didn't care for the vapid attention and feigned sympathy that the Wizarding world had to offer. He'd rather cloister himself away with all his books for company. He could trust in books and knowledge, but never people.

His ideal wasn't possible. He had been obliged to return to his post as potions master after the war, partially because Minerva wished it of him, and mostly, because he didn't have enough funds to support himself and his penchant for buying several books a month without a job. Hogwarts was at least in a secluded part of the country, if not free from all nuisances.

Besides, Hermione Granger was now his apprentice, and could cover half of the classes by now. She was not there by his request, rather foisted upon him by Minerva. Supposedly she wished for the torment of being taught by him for another four years. When he questioned her decision, she only said she wished to learn from the best. Flattery had lost its impact on Severus, and he just wrote it up to some masochistic tendencies she'd kept hidden. Besides, with only half the work to do, it gave Snape more free time than he had ever experienced before. It didn't seem to be much of an improvement. If anything, it left him unsettled.

Speaking of his apprentice, she was seated behind a small desk across the room, marking essays as well by her own guttering candle, a frown on her face. He watched as she sighed and rubbed her hands together for warmth. It was very dank and dingy in this part of the castle, and Severus knew it was almost the perfect temperature for one to see one's own breath in. He wasn't bothered to change that though. It wasn't his problem that she never wore the proper robes to work in the dungeons during the peak of winter. He had learned from years of experience what to expect, and dressed accordingly, with an extra layer of clothes and his winter robes. If anything, it would spur his apprentice on to finish grading her papers even faster.

They were interrupted in their solitude when the door burst open to reveal Draco Malfoy, sporting a sparkling green robe that looked to be made of scales of some sort. It was so bright that, even just reflected off the pitiful light from two candles, Severus had to blink for a few seconds.

"Happy Christmas," He fairly shouted, swiftly making his way to Severus' desk. Severus merely grunted in reply. Draco smirked at the typical response as he stopped to lean against the other side. He ignored the Potion Master's pointed glare at the encroachment of his work space. "Surely you can be a bit more enthusiastic than that, Severus?"

"It is just another day to be bogged down with the problems of adolescents and the false platitudes of others trying to believe their selves merry," Severus grumbled, turning back to his essays. If they were to be talking about Christmas, he had better things to do with his time.

"Ah, but they know not to give _you_ such 'false platitudes,' as you say," Draco replied. Severus just scowled. "Don't be so grumpy."

"It is hard to be cheerful in a world full of fools, Draco. What is Christmas but a time to waste your money on things for other people that they do not even want or need; A time to find yourself another year older, and not a second happier than before, though you try your hardest to pretend to feel so. I am forever bogged down by the writings of novices, held back from my true potential, and you expect me to be jubilant? I think not."

"Severus," Draco exclaimed in false censure at his pessimism, used to hearing such disgruntlement from his Godfather. Severus snorted when he saw the young man glare at where Hermione sat, trying to appear productive while being the nosey brat he knew she was. Severus knew there was no way she could be scared off by that glare. He'd used his formidable glare on her before, and she'd not even flinched.

"Draco, go enjoy your Christmas, and l will attend to mine, or leave it alone, as I wish. It won't do you any good to bother me about it more."

"Severus, the holidays may not be profitable financially, but I know that, for the spirit, it is just the touch of rejuvenation one needs. Though it has never helped me financially, I believe it has done me good, and will do me good."

Hermione snorted. At Severus' glare she raised an eyebrow before leisurely turning back to her stack of essays, just as her candle sputtered and extinguished. He shared a smirk with Draco at her muffled cursing.

"Don't think I can't kick you out of here at any time," he growled at her in the semi-darkness. He turned back to face Draco, who raised an eyebrow and looked around, as if just noticing the gloominess and lack of cheer in the room. "What a noble speech, coming from one of the wealthiest wizards on the British Isles. And, may I ask, who bought you that hideous robe? It's not something I'd think was to your taste." Draco smirk was almost a smile as he fingered the robes.

"It's from Luna. She claims it's made of Juvinia skin, whatever that is, but I suspect its origin was a large fish of some sort. Anyways, you should go to the staff Christmas party tomorrow, Severus," he replied solemnly, "You'll finally be able to meet my fiancée. Ah, and Granger, Luna wanted me to tell you that you should go as well." He smirked at the young woman who had once again lit her tiny candle. She shrugged reluctantly, but her face held a wistful look.

"Merry Christmas," he said, as jovially as a Slytherin can be, to both of them on his way back out of Snape's office. Severus scowled after him as Hermione quietly murmured a reply. He grumbled to himself, wondering how she could be so perpetually cheerful when she was stuck grading essays in a cold, gloomy room in a secluded part of Scotland, hundreds of miles from her friends, and with her surliest professor.

Not a minute after Draco left, there was another knock at the office door. Severus growled, making Hermione hesitate as she went to open it. In the doorway were two plump women, faces still rosy from cold and layers and layers of cloth draped over their broad shoulders. Though Snape didn't rise to welcome them, they felt no compunctions about stepping into the room.

"Ah, Mister Snape, is it?" one queried nervously.

"That would be my father," he growled in reply, "You may call me Professor." His abrupt and grudging reply made the ladies uncomfortable, his intended purpose. They were imposing on his valuable time.

One of the ladies cleared her throat and gave what Severus supposed was a practiced speech, "At this festive season of the year, Professor Snape, we would like to invite you to help spread the cheer to those less fortunate. There are many who still suffer greatly from the war against Voldemort, and we try, especially at this season, to bring a little cheer to those who have lost their loved ones. Many are without proper means of living, and have resorted to theft."

"Is Azkaban not available to take care of that problem?"

"It is fully running," the woman nervously twisted the material on one of her shawls.

"And what about jobs? Are there none left?"

"There are, though most cases reveal that the traumatized are in no condition for that situation."

"So, they are both available."

"Yes," the woman muttered. The other lady beside her stood mute, perhaps too nervous to speak.

"I was afraid for a second that these avenues had failed; that those needing to be put into Azkaban are running amok."

"We feel that such places do not offer such cheer as should be felt during the season, and are looking to bring about a means of giving each orphaned child and widowed mother in unfortunate circumstance a warm meal for the holidays," The woman continued on, doggedly, and Snape silently commended her fortitude. "How much shall I put you down for?"

Severus scowled when he realized the direction their conversation was going.

"Nothing!" The ladies jumped, startled.

"You … wish to remain anonymous?"

"I wish to be left alone," Snape growled. These old hags were trying to take some of his hard earned money! "I don't have time or means to make myself merry during this time of year, and I have no wish to encourage people to be idle and reap benefits from my hard work. People must take on their own responsibility."

The other woman, who had been mute for the duration, finally decided to speak up. "Many would rather die than go to Azkaban!"

"If they wish to die, let them," Severus rejoined with a sneer, "It will make room for all of the other miscreants deserving a spot there."

The ladies gasped in offence and Severus smirked slightly before scowling once again, "If you don't _mind_, I'd like to get back to work."

The brusque woman spoke up with a scowl to match his, "You ought to be ashamed for your selfishness! There are people who sacrificed their _lives_ so their children could know what a life is without tyranny and fear."

Severus felt his blood boiling, "You wish to speak about _sacrifice_, madam?" he hissed, standing from behind his desk so quickly his chair fell. He stalked over to the women, who stepped back in fright at his snarl. He stopped a few feet from them and wrenched the sleeve of his arm up, baring the Dark Mark, then tore at the neck of his robes so they could see the large, ugly scar curving down his neck, left by Nagini, "I think twenty years is enough sacrifice, don't you?" He barred his teeth.

The women looked sufficiently cowed. Without speaking, they left, closing the door behind them. He turned to see a pale-faced Hermione Granger gripping the edge of her desk with white knuckles. "Get back to work," he barked, pulling his sleeve back down. There was nothing to be done for the collar of his robes until he was alone again, for there was no way he'd fix it in her presence. Let her be afraid. He didn't care.

He felt slightly gratified that he could put the ladies in their place, but their presumption still chaffed on his nerves, and he was more irritable than before.

It was almost an hour before they were interrupted again, this time unintentionally, from a student singing in the corridor outside. Severus, after stewing in his own temper, was not patient enough to deal with the student graciously. He charged to the door, once again knocking his chair down with a clatter, and tore it open, causing the student to squeak mid-line. He scowled blackly down at the first year, who looked ready to wet himself.

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff, Jorgenson, and don't let me catch you around here again until next year," he growled.

"Y-yes sir," The boy squeaked, before running back down the hallway. Severus pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply before turning back to his desk, slamming the door behind. He looked over at Granger, still working furiously at the student's essays.

"You'll want the day off tomorrow, I suspect," he barked, startling her.

"If it's convenient."

"It is not," he replied, "If I were to take away your pay for the day, you would feel cheated. As far as I'm concerned, you are taking away my day of pay," he sneered, "You may have it off. Dumbledore would probably come back from the dead and wring what's left of my neck if I forced you into anything not of holiday cheer tomorrow. Just make sure you're here all the earlier the next morning. We will have catching up to do."

Hermione nodded and followed him out the door, leaving him in the corridor by himself to lock up. He did, locking and dead bolting the door before putting a complicated layer of wards on it, making his office virtually impregnable.

He went to his rooms next door, where he ate a small meal brought by a summoned House-elf before curling in front of his meager fire with a book about unbreakable curses. He was startled with a jolt when, after thirty minutes of quiet reading, something fell over in a shadowed corner of the room. Wand automatically raised and a curse half out of his mouth, he turned to the corner. After a few seconds of silence to verify there was nothing alive there, he muttered, "Lumos."

There, in the corner, lying on its side was a very familiar cane.

"No," Severus muttered, rubbing his eyes. How the Hell had Lucius Malfoy's cane ended up in the corner of his study? He hadn't even thought of the man in years, let alone kept any memorabilia from their abysmal days as reluctant acquaintances. There was only one good thing that ever came out of their friendship, and that was his being Draco Malfoy's Godfather. With that position, he was able to successfully protect Draco from truly turning into a Death Eater, though it had been required of the boy to attain his own Dark Mark.

Severus scowled at the reminder of the supercilious crook. He'd always resent the man who invited him into the ranks of the Death Eaters, taking advantage of his need to feel included in something great. Lucius had seen Severus' ambition, genius and bitterness, and knew just how to turn it in his favor.

Severus summoned the cane, catching and looking it over with distaste before chucking it into the fire. The flames crackled as they slowly ate the polished dark wood, though the fire was not hot enough to melt the metal. Severus felt a bit of satisfaction as he watched a symbol of his past die in the flames. He looked around the spartanly decorated study in case there was any more memorabilia to add to the flames before re-checking his wards, changing into his grey nightshirt and sitting back down in his thread-bare chair to commence his reading.

It was not long before he felt a peculiar sensation. Severus was paranoid, and knew when eyes were watching him. He glowered.

"Peeves! If you're in here, don't think I'm not willing to fetch the Bloody Baron! Be gone!"

There was nothing in the silence but for the crackling of the flames, so Severus turned back to his reading, but the feeling of eyes on him didn't go away. He found himself rereading the same lines in his preoccupation, itching to pull out his wand, though there was obviously no one around to hex. Yes, since the war he'd still kept alert (some called it psychotically distrustful), but it had been a while since he was trigger happy, just about ready to blow up anything that made a sudden noise within ten feet of him.

The silver hounds head from Lucius' cane seemed to glint menacingly from within the fireplace. Severus scowled and looked away, once he realized he was staring at it. His gaze then landed on one of his bookshelves. Was one of them … wait, no, were all of them _moving_? Very subtle, but enough to be recognized, the books began to shake on the shelf, creating a low buzzing sound that gradually filled the room. Severus aimed his wand at it.

"PEEVES," he roared, as much as he could with a damaged throat. The books shook, undaunted. Some started to slip forward, going so far as to fall off, in a few cases. Severus hated the abuse of his books, but there was no way he was getting close to that shelf. Then it suddenly stopped and all was silent for a few seconds. Severus then heard a sound not ever heard within the walls of Hogwarts: the sound of someone apparating right behind him.

Shaken, Severus dared not turn around. It was late and his senses were tricking him with the lack of sleep and the added stress of the holiday. There was no possible way anyone could apparate within Hogwarts, and that was a printed fact (He had read _Hogwarts, A History_ quite a few times).

"Come now, Severus," a voice rasped from behind, causing him to balk as all the blood drained from his face, "This is no way to treat your old _friend_."

There was no mistaking that voice, even hollow sounding as it was. Severus whipped around and sent a _Reducto_ flying, though it didn't do much more than blast a hole in the wall separating his study from the potions classroom.

Lucius Malfoy chuckled menacingly as he rubbed over the spot the curse had gone through. "Didn't quite hit your target, did you Snape," The smirk he sported turned into grim stare. He stood still, allowing Severus to look him over.

Severus questioned his senses as he observed the mottled and bloody appearance of what was once his deceased and despised friend. He also noted the transparency. He couldn't meet the ghost's eyes, for the look that was there: hollow, grim, tortured. He still doubted. Wouldn't Malfoy have shown up sooner if he had decided to become a ghost once dead? Surely he would have heard something from Draco about it. Still, Severus was ever practical.

"What do you want with me," he barked out gruffly.

"Much," Lucius seemed to savor the word as it left his mouth.

"Who are you?"

The transparent blonde raised an eyebrow, "Do you have to ask?"

Severus scowled. There was no way he was going to be treated such a way by a figment of his own imagination.

Lucius seemed to read his thoughts. "Ah, I see that you don't believe in me."

"I don't."

"And why do you doubt my existence?"

It was now Severus' turn to raise an eyebrow, "considering what kind of world I live in, how could I not take any surreal thing to be a trick or spell of some sort, or possibly a symptom of my mind finally deteriorating from the stress it has gone through most of my miserable life." Severus' voice grew less tremulous as he spoke, his words more a way of distracting himself from the terror of reliving the life his had been while Lucius was alive than giving a logical explanation.

The apparition growled and advanced towards where Severus stood, and, in the process of backing away, his knees hit his chair and he sank onto the cushion, gripping the arms of it as if it were the last thread to his sanity. He would not stand for being plagued by ghosts like this in his own abode.

"For Merlin's sake man, what are you here for?" Though Severus tried to sound gruff, it came out more as a whine.

"Do you believe in me or not," Malfoy said sharply, leaning forward menacingly.

"Yes, but why should you be here to haunt _me_?"

"I have debts to pay-"

"Debts," Severus scoffed, "You, one of the wealthiest of the wizarding families, in debt? Ha!" Now Severus knew he was hallucinating. There was no way he could ever imagine Lucius being in debt.

"Wealthy! Money has no use when one is dead," Lucius continued grimly, "No, I have quite a few debts to be paid, laid on by my misspent life! I must see if I can right the wrongs I have committed in the past, too many to be thought of at once. And, oh, the regrets and self-castigation I go through every moment of it! It will be long before I am free of it, if I am ever free of it. Listen to me! My time is almost up."

"Speak, if you must."

"I am here to warn you, Severus, so that you might escape the fate I bear. Do not let the bitterness of your past color the rest of your life. If you cannot change you unwillingness to forgive, to embrace the new life given to you, you shall have a fate worse than mine. Oh, that I could have seen the error of my ways while still living!" Malfoy seemed distracted by his own remorse.

"So you are granting me a favor?" Severus smirked.

"You will be haunted by Three Spirits," Malfoy continued.

The smirk disappeared, "If that's your favor you can keep it to yourself. I've had a rather long night already, thank you very much!"

"If you do not accept this, you will be held accountable, just as I am. The first will appear as the bell tolls one, the second, tomorrow, at the same time, and the third the next day at the stroke of midnight. I must go now. Do not forget what I have said."

With that, the specter turned and popped back out of the room, leaving Severus in silence. He stayed still a few seconds more, not knowing what would happen were he to move from his chair. He looked around the room to see everything normal, as if nothing had ever happened, and he was quite convinced that nothing had, though the glinting of the hounds head in the dying fire proved to be a strong deterrent to that notion.

"Bonkers," Severus muttered to himself as he finally pulled himself up from the chair and headed towards his unadorned bed. It still could not stop the slight quaking of his hands as he pulled back the bedclothes and tucked himself in. He was asleep not long after.

Next: Severus meets with the first Spirit.


	2. The First of the Three Spirits

A/N: Here comes the second chapter, in which we travel to Snape's past. What a treat.

A Hogwarts Christmas Carol

Chapter 2: The First of the Three Spirits

When Severus awoke it was completely dark, just as any room in the dungeons without windows would be. The fire had gone out and there was a damp chill in the air. As he strained his eyes, he heard the bell of his clock on the wall ring. He lazily counted until it struck twelve…

That couldn't possibly be, as he had retired well after that hour, and there was no way it was noon already. Minerva would've hunted him down by then.

"Must be broken," he muttered to himself as he lay back in his bed and covered his face with an arm. Now that he was awake though, he couldn't fall back asleep. All he could think of was the peculiar dream he'd had about Lucius Malfoy. There was no way that could have really happened, could it?

By the time Severus gave up thinking on it, the hour was almost up. He decided it wouldn't hurt to lay awake a bit longer in order to see whether any apparition would visit him at one, just as he was foretold. His eyes grew droopy and it was hard to know, at times, whether his eyes were open or shut, as the level of darkness did not change either way.

As soon as his clock struck one he was immediately blinded by a bright light and had to cover his face once more, cursing loudly. When he felt that he could withstand the light, he removed his arm to see that the Spirit was there, right next to him.

A Veela? Her figure was of a small build, almost that of a child's, but the blue eyes in her face reflected someone very old, though there were no apparent wrinkles. Her hair was a white blonde, and it floated about, though there was no wind in Severus' chamber. She wore a long tunic, belted in silver, with embroidered flowers trimming it, and held a branch of holly in one hand. The light seemed to radiate from within her whole being.

"I suppose you are the first Spirit Malfoy told me about?" Severus tried to keep an even tone, while admitting to his self that this was all a bit too surreal for him to have made it up in his mind.

"I am," the Veela spoke, and her voice was soft and lilting, though it seemed to come from a distance. It had the hypnotizing effect of any Veela, in that Severus secretly wished to hear her speak more, and cared not the subject. This was irregular, as Severus had always disliked small talk.

"Who are you, Veela?"

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."

"Long past?"

"No. _Your_ past."

"Oh," Severus blinked, "Any chance that you could tone the brightness down?"

The Veela, a being he thought to look quite harmless and small, started to change into something more bird-like, her face becoming sharper, as if a beak would eventually form. Her hair writhed frantically about her and her presence seemed large enough to subdue even a man such as Severus.

"You dare ask me to dim the light I give off? Is it not enough that you have suppressed such light long before now?" Her voice had lost its lilting sound, veering towards a shriek.

"Never mind then," Severus muttered, not a little cowed at the power emanating from the Spirit. As a Slytherin he knew it was not smart to provoke a power greater than himself. "And why have you come?"

He hoped his interest would placate her. It did, and she resumed her gentler form.

"To help you," the Spirit replied.

"Your thought is appreciated, but I'm sure a night of unbroken sleep would be the best help to me." Severus couldn't quite strain all of the sarcasm from his words.

The Veela frowned but held out her hand to him and commanded, "Rise, and walk with me!"

Severus grumbled as he got out from his blankets, the cold of the room making him shiver. He quickly shrugged on his robe and slippers and hesitated before putting his hand in hers. She grasped it with a strength that belied her small stature, though it wasn't painful. The Spirit headed not towards the door, but to the wall.

"You've got to be kidding me," Severus muttered to himself, "Spirit, I cannot pass through walls as you do."

The Veela smirked at him and placed her hand over his heart. He felt as though someone had disillusioned him, as a shiver ran through his body radiating from the touch.

She pulled him through the wall as if they were at Kings Cross station. It was peculiar that, instead of encountering the adjoining room, or even the Hogwarts Express, Severus found himself in the back yard of his own home at Spinners End. Not only that, but it appeared they had gone back in time as well, for his house looked as it did when he was a young boy.

After staring for a while, Severus turned from the Spirit to wipe the solitary tear from his eye. When he turned back to her it was with a frown.

"Well," he said gruffly, "Lead on."

The Spirit smiled knowingly, but led him on through the frozen weeds and slush to the back of the house. Severus looked around him, at the smokestacks in the distance, the flaking cream paint of the house's exterior, the tangle of overgrown bushes at the side of the yard in which he used to hide and play in as a kid. A child was playing with snow in a neighboring yard, but he paid no attention to Severus or his companion. The boy must have been quite dull to not see the Veela, her light still glowing bright in the midday sun.

The Spirit once again seemed to know what he was thinking, for she said, "These are but memories of things that have been. They cannot see us as we see them." She took his hand once again and led him through the back wall of the house.

Inside, everything was as he remembered; the scuffed carpets and threadbare furniture, the lace curtains pulled shut with the sun shining through. The thing that most captured his attention was under the dining room table. There sat a young boy of five or six, a frown on his face as he lay on his belly, playing quietly with little plastic toy soldiers. The toys had been well-loved, bent and even broken in some places, but the boy played with them as if they were small treasures.

Severus looked away from the Spirit again for a few minutes, and when he turned back, his eyes were redder than before. "I only had a few toys as a child. My Father never cared to think of what I might need, fearing that I would one day be able to overpower him with the thing he hated most: magic. He made my mother give it up when she married him, for fear that she would use it against him, but still, after he found out, there was always a rift between him and us, a gulf never to be crossed. In his mind she was not to be trusted, but he needed to control her, to diminish her own self confidence in order for him to be assured that she would never fight back against him. She always was meek, from what I remember, though she would occasionally sneak things to me, such as used toys, extra food and such. They had to be used, for a new toy would draw attention to father, and that was the one thing mum didn't want," Severus' lips tilted up, though his smile was tinged with bitterness, "She always did put my needs before herself. It was more than I deserved. Every act of mine seemed to be in defiance of my father, and he didn't take lightly to it. Mum was always there to try and protect me though." Severus rubbed his left arm, thinking of a time when his father had gotten to him before Eileen could interfere.

"Boy, you'll not talk to me in such a way and get away with it," Tobias had said in his thick northern accent, before backhanding him into a side table, where he'd broken his arm. That was one time Severus' mother had left the house without groveling for permission. She'd brought him straight to the hospital to get fixed up, claiming a bike injury. When they'd returned, Severus with a cast on his arm, it was to find Tobias slouched on the old couch, a pathetically remorseful look on his face, one hand barely holding to the glass bottle he'd been drinking from. Apparently he'd thought they'd abandoned him, and that the police would show at the door any minute. Once sobered, the man had realized just how much of a hold he had on his wife for her to come back to him after that, and was never remorseful for his actions from then on.

Back to the present, Severus looked down on his young self.

"Poor boy," Severus muttered, and cringed, as, at the sound of the front door opening in the house, he observed the very same terrified look on his young face as he had seen on the boy in the corridor the previous night.

"What is it," The Spirit asked.

Severus turned away from the child and left the house through the wall, not wanting to see anymore.

"I wish I had not spoken so harshly to Jorgenson," he muttered, chagrined at his self.

The Spirit gave a soothing smile, "Let us see another Christmas."

She took his hand and, in the blink of an eye, they were at Hogwarts once again, though this time, it was the Great Hall, decked to the hilt with holiday splendor. Severus spotted his younger self, about thirteen this time, bent over a book, ignorant of all the food and chatter around him. Suddenly his younger self flinched, as something struck him on the cheek. He looked up from his book, but nothing notable was seen, so he resumed his reading. Once again he was struck, and his reflexes were fast enough that he caught the object as it bounced off his cheek. It was a pea. He heard a distant guffaw, and looked across the hall to see James Potter and his friends laughing at him. He growled and crushed the pea in his hand before stalking off with his book, dinner forgotten.

Severus glared at the hooligans. Why couldn't they leave well enough alone?

"All Seven years I stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas, and not any of them were happy," he glared at the Gryffindors playing jokes and making merry at their table. "Ever since they met, the _Marauders_ had been inseparable, forgoing the chance to go home to families that actually cared for them in order to make mischief here and steal away," he paused, breath hitching as he gazed at a young Lily laughing, her head tilted back, "that which should have been mine."

"You know it never would have worked that way, Severus," the Spirit said gently, "The rift between you was made by more than any outside force's influence."

Severus knew she spoke the truth, but it was hard to swallow.

"Let us see another Christmas," The Spirit led him through a wall, and when on the other side, he found himself in a rose garden, the snow falling softly.

"No," he muttered to himself, turning back to the wall to go through again, but it was solid to his touch. He leaned his head against it for a moment before letting out a sigh and turning back. There, in a darkened spot of the garden lurked his former self, now a young man of sixteen. He stood stiff, as if jinxed, eyes fixed on the happenings of a couple seated on a bench not far away. The boy and girl were too engrossed in each other to pay much notice to anyone else who might have been there. Severus did not need to see them to know who they were, this memory painfully engrained within himself.

The girl broke away from a heated kiss with a giggle and turned her head away when the boy tried to reunite their lips.

"James, please! Someone might _see_!"

"Let them see then! I wish for everyone in the castle to know that you are now _my_ Lily." James spoke passionately as he hugged his love close. She smiled and smoothed a hand over his cheek, lovingly adjusting his glasses, which had gone askew.

"They will know it soon enough, I'm sure. Let's go back into the Great Hall for another dance. We'll not be able to attend another Yule ball, as it only happens every four years, so let's enjoy it while we can!"

"Of course, my Lily, but give me one more kiss before we go!" Lily gladly bestowed it on him.

Severus watched the darkened corner, seeing the anguish in his younger self's eyes, just before he bolted towards the opened back doors of the castle. In his haste, he did not see the blonde-haired young man in the doorway, and ran into him. Startled, he looked up.

"Lucius! I apologize. I was, erm," he was too upset to form much of a sentence. The blonde waved away his stuttered excuse with a smirk.

"No matter. Neither of us is hurt," His cold eyes narrowed calculatingly, "I was just about to search you out, in fact. Come, let's talk inside."

Severus saw his younger self be led away by the blonde and growled, fists clenched.

"That bastard saw me in a weak moment and took advantage. He knew just what to say for me to think of nothing but power and revenge, and forget that it would hurt the one I esteemed most. Spirit, you torture me. Can we not see a happier memory?"

The Spirit nodded with a sympathetic smile and held out her hand. Severus took it willingly and was led through the wall once again, this time into the teacher's lounge of Hogwarts, where the staff was throwing a late night Christmas party.

A slight smile adorned Severus' face as he watched the merriment, Flitwick dancing a jig on a table to music played by suits of armor in the corner. Trelawney was swirling her various scarves around as she circled the room, and Hagrid's booming laugh almost drowned out all the noise for a moment. Severus saw his younger self, as one new to the staff and still awkward at the transition, standing to the side of the room with Albus and Minerva.

They were debating as to whether Santa, if he were a wizard, could have possibly formed a spell to freeze time long enough to deliver all his gifts in one night, and, if so, how it would be composed.

"It has to be a sort of transfiguration of time, to make it last for so long," Minerva argued.

"Ah, but there is a question as to whether it is time that is affected, or the man," Severus replied, a glint of challenge in his eye. To the Severus watching, he could see that his former self was enjoying this trivial debate very much.

"Severus is right to point such a critical element out. Would you also insist, as a Potion Master, that the means by which this is accomplished is alchemical as well?" The not-so-old man's blue eyes twinkled over his glasses at the dark young man.

"No, I would say it was caused by some sort of charmed artifact, much like a time-turner," he replied seriously, as if this conversation were something of import.

"Ah, yes, very good," Albus stroked his beard thoughtfully, "I would summon Filius over here to join us and see what he thinks, but it seems he is quite occupied."

All three turned to observe the little man dancing on the table, smiles on each of their faces.

"The old man always did know how to throw a party, even in dark times," Severus told the Spirit, not turning away from the events in the room. "He did tend to overdo it a bit much as he got older, though."

"Or maybe it is your outlook that has changed so much as to see it that way," the Spirit suggested, and Severus was once again forced to acknowledge the truth of the statement, if only to himself.

"Come, I have much to show, and little time to do so," the Spirit held out her hand once again, and this time, Severus was reluctant to grasp it.

They were in the Great Hall once again, decorated as much as ever for the holiday, only this time, Severus' former self was much nearer his current age, and the difference in countenance was greatly changed from the young man who had stood smiling in the staff room. There were many lines on this man's face, made from stress and anger. Severus observed his self's foreboding expression, and followed his gaze to the Gryffindor table, where Harry Potter and his friends were playing exploding snap and laughing. He noted with surprise how similar the scene was to one previous, with the boy's father and his friends. Hermione Granger even tilted her head back as she laughed, just as Lily had. Her hair tumbled back, and he thought to himself that he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her happy, even as she had been apprenticing to him for almost half a year, and was in his company almost every day of it.

He tried to swallow his regret. She had asked for it, hadn't she? She knew what his temperament was. Still, he could not help feeling guilty.

The Spirit took his hand once again and they walked through the wall and were once again in the rose garden at night, the snow lightly falling and music floating through the open doors of the castle. Fairy lights adorned the air and bushes, making everything look as magical as Hogwarts could get during the wintertime.

Severus almost thought the Spirit cruel enough to make him revisit the memory they had left not long ago, but the figure he saw lurking in the shadows was too tall to be his teenage self, though it was him. The shadows seemed to wrap around the man as he observed the very same bench as before with narrowed eyes. The couple occupied there was not the same though.

A pretty young woman in periwinkle blue robes turned her face from the man next to her, his kiss landing on her cheek.

"It's so beautiful out tonight, Viktor, wouldn't you agree," she blurted nervously.

"Yes, Hermy-own-ninny," the hulking man said in his Bulgarian accent, "But that is not all that is beautiful." He leaned in once again, this time aiming for her neck, and she stood abruptly, not so subtly dodging his advance.

"Let's go back inside, Viktor. I'm starting to get cold."

The Bulgarian must be thicker than Severus had previously thought, as he watched in disgust as the young man stood with a smirk and took her hands into his, turning her to him. Could the dolt not see the reluctance she had at any sort of intimate contact with him?

"Dunderhead," he muttered, watching still.

"I can help vith that," the seeker slipped one hand about her waist to pull her closer. Granger's eyes widened in disbelief, as she no doubt questioned the intelligence of the young man as well. Her mouth opened, but before either she could discourage him or he could swoop in to steal the kiss he had been so apparently eager for, Severus' younger self stepped in to put things to a halt.

"Twenty points from Gryffindor," his tone was menacing enough to make even the Bulgarian startle. Granger's expression could only be considered as mortified.

Severus observed his self's cruel countenance, and wondered at how much his previous experience in this garden on such a night must have colored his view of such an encounter. It appeared as if his younger self was taking belated revenge, but unfairly, and with a different couple than that which he wished to bestow it. Only now did Severus see his error and unreasonable discrimination.

The younger Severus glared at the Bulgarian a few seconds until the young man recognized his cue to leave, looking back over his shoulder regretfully as he walked into the Great Hall with his duck-footed swagger. Granger seemed to sink even more into mortification. Not only did the Potions Master call her out, he wanted to speak with her as well. She no doubt knew nothing good could come of this.

Severus turned away, running a hand over his face, but he could not block out the waspish and purposefully hurtful words coming from the mouth that once was his own.

"I see, Miss Granger, that you are making the students from the other schools welcome here, but it does not require such uncouth displays of affection as I have just witnessed. You _will_ comport yourself with more decorum, or I will be forced to issue you a detention over the holiday. Have I made myself quite clear?"

"Yes sir," she mumbled to her toes, and as Severus turned to look once again on the scene, he saw the unmistakable tremble of oncoming tears wrack the young woman's body.

"You are dismissed," the Professor hissed at her, turning aside to let her pass, and she did so, walking stiffly, as if holding herself back from running.

"Apologize, you idiot," Severus found himself growling at his former self, but of course it went unheard by the recipient. The harsh words of moments ago seemed to echo repeatedly through Severus' mind, and he acknowledged to himself bitterly that, were she to have run, more points would have been docked, and a detention would surely follow. Severus had not been in any way merciful by that time.

Witnessing such a scene forced him to admit to himself the fact that he _still_ hadn't changed much more than that time. In fact, the only change now was that he was able to be more reclusive, not in the presence of others enough to offend and scare off as many as he had seven years previous. It was a bitter fact.

The light from the fairies floating around him irritated him, and he swatted at them, but his hand went through them. He scowled.

"Spirit, I have seen as much as necessary. Take me back to my rooms. You have tormented me long enough."

"One more," the Veela said, brooking no argument as she grabbed his hand and pulled him with force through the wall once again.

He was in an unfamiliar room this time, cramped and crowded with all sorts of things, most of which were piles of books. It was clean though, and there was some order to the chaos. Seated at a small desk in the corner, and surrounded by many piles of books was Granger. She was looking over the advertisement pages of the Daily Prophet, pausing to circle in red a few as she passed them by. Towards the bottom she paused as her eye caught one ad and her eyebrow rose in astonishment. She bounced slightly in her chair, a delighted look on her face. Severus snorted at her childishness.

"Harry!" She called out and Severus startled. A few seconds and the thudding of feet running up stairs sounded from some other part of the house. Severus realized they must be in an upper room of Grimauld Place. The thunderous footsteps grew closer and the door burst open, Harry Potter panting and adjusting his glasses.

"Yes, 'Mione? What is it? You had me worried."

The young woman smiled reassuringly.

"Look what I have found!" She gestured to the ad in the paper.

Severus turned to the Spirit.

"Is there any point to this venture?" The Spirit gestured for him to keep watching.

"This clearly is a joke," Potter muttered, after a while, "Snape would never willingly put out an ad for an apprentice."

Granger frowned at that thought.

"Then I shall have to write and see," She said determinedly.

"Hermione, you can't seriously wish to apprentice under the old Git, can you? Don't you remember how cruel he was to all of us?"

"Harry, it's been seven years since the war, and he almost got himself killed. I'm sure he's changed since then. Knowing your life was almost lost can change just about anyone's outlook. And he's not even middle age, when you consider how long a wizard's lifespan is."

"I doubt it'd change Snape's," Harry muttered. "Look, I respect the man, but any type of olive branch I've tried to extend to him has been metaphorically burned or thrown back at me. I just don't think he's changed, and I'm telling you this because I don't want you to be miserable with the Bat for four years, no matter the knowledge you might gain from him."

Hermione smiled at him, but she had a determined look in her eye.

"Your concern is duly noted, now go and fetch me some of your ink, as mine is running low." She pulled out a sheaf of parchment and started sharpening her quill. Harry rolled his eyes and ruffled her hair playfully before turning to leave the room.

"As you wish, Your Highness."

"And on the double, young man!" She retorted to his back.

Severus was pained to know what would happen. Minerva had written the ad without informing him, to his ire. When she had told him what was going to happen, he was none too happy, and took it out on his new apprentice. Severus now saw how she had tried her best to be as good an apprentice as he could wish for, the first few months she was there, but his repeated disparaging of her abilities and help caused such acts to be muted over time to a point that they rarely broke the silence in the room at any time.

Now, Severus was put through a new form of torment, watching events previously unknown to him. He saw the eager glint in her eye, the easy smile and hope blooming through her words on the parchment. That he had caused the transformation of such a bright headstrong woman into one as quiet and meek as he had now was something he wished he could not claim.

Ashamed, he wished for his room, for the darkness that would hide this memory from his sight.

"Spirit," he rasped, "remove me from this place!"

"These are memories of what has already occurred," the Veela replied, "You cannot blame _me_ for what has happened within them!"

"Remove me," Severus repeated, plugging his ears to block out the scratching of quill on parchment that seemed to grow louder at every moment. Everything seemed an irritant, and Severus only wished to return to darkness and quiet. "Leave me! Take me back! Haunt me no longer!"

The light was too bright, coming from the Veela, so he tore his robe off and covered her small form with it, struggling to cover the light which flooded from under the garment. His effort was rewarded, and soon enough he found himself in the dark of his own room, wrestling with the bedclothes. Too exhausted to care how twisted they were, Severus collapsed upon them and closed his eyes to treasured oblivion.

Next up: Severus meets the second Spirit and sees things as they are at the moment.


	3. The Second of the Three Spirits

A/N: Severus gets visited by the second Spirit, and loads of fun ensues …

A Hogwarts Christmas Carol

Chapter 3: The Second of the Three Spirits

Severus awoke mid-snore, sitting straight in the bed as the clock in his room once again chimed one o'clock. Looking about in the darkness, his body tensed as he readied himself to meet the second Spirit. Would it be just as the one before? He prepared himself for the unknown.

Fifteen minutes later, a scowling Snape cursed at himself as he sat in the dark, feeling stupid for thinking that the events of this night were anything more than a dream.

Just as he reached for his sheets, intending to go back to sleep, Severus heard the unmistakable sound of a fire crackling in the grate, coming from his office. He growled impatiently, though he was slightly relieved that he wasn't going mad and imagining sympathetic Veelas and remorseful Malfoys. Putting his slippers on and separating his robes from where they'd twisted with the bedclothes, Severus got up and headed toward the noise.

Once he reached his office door, a voice called for him to enter. The gall of such a man, to invite him into his own office! Severus opened the door, ready to reply in a vicious manner, when he saw that he really didn't want to upset such a person. Or should he say Giant? Yes, it was a Giant, robed in deep green with fur trim, his bare feet propped up on Severus' desk. There was a wreath of holly nestled in the brown curls upon his head. How the chair underneath the Giant could hold up against such an enormous being was just one of the thoughts running through Severus' head. After seeing the Giant, he noticed that, though he was in his office, it now looked as if he were in a forest. There were garlands of evergreen everywhere, bright red berries, holly, mistletoe, and ivy. There were bows wrapped around the jars of floating pickled creatures, making them look almost festive. Most surprising though, was the amount of food spread out on every available surface, including most of the floor. It was enough that it would have most likely taken a couple days for the Hogwarts house elves to cook it. Severus could see every food imaginable at a Christmas feast laying about his office.

"Come in and know me better, man!" The Giant almost laughed out, beckoning with his cornucopia-shaped torch. The light from it filled the whole room, and, indeed, it was the only light in the room besides the roaring fire in the hearth.

Severus was uneasy with such a jolly man treating him as an old friend. The Giant obviously didn't know his temperament. He entered the room and chose to look at all the decorations rather than face him. The sight of the curly brown chest hair unnerved him, sticking out from the loosely tied robe. Didn't the man have any sense of decency?

The Giant seemed to know what he was thinking, for his voice boomed out, "look at me! I am the Ghost of Christmas Present." His jolly eyes sparkled not unlike Dumbledore's did.

Severus decided he just wanted to get this business finished.

"Conduct me where you will, Spirit. I learned a lesson last night. If you have one to teach me as well, let me hear it."

"Touch my robe," the Giant said.

Severus did, and it seemed to act as a type of portkey, as the room and all its contents disappeared from before them and Severus found that they were in Hogsmeade on Christmas morning. The streets bustled with shopkeepers removing the drifts of snow from the paths leading to their shops, calling out to each other jokingly, making a racing game of it. The day certainly looked dingy, with all the slush on the ground and the smoke from each of the buildings rising up into the grey sky, but the cheerfulness of the people on the street seemed to make everything brighter than it first appeared. Severus smirked as the owner of Zonko's Joke shop threw a snowball at Madame Rosmerta, promptly receiving a whole snow bank in exchange.

"You always were generous with your portions, Rosie," he laughed.

"I wouldn't be so cheeky if I were you. I may just have to give you another helping." They both chuckled and got on with their work.

Severus noticed the festive displays in each of the shop windows, the cheerfulness radiating from the open door of the Three Broomsticks, and even a little bit of tinsel strewn haphazardly across the dusty display in the Hog's Head. He could almost smell the pastries from Madam Puddifoot's Tea shop. Everything was cozy and welcoming.

Severus noticed after a little while that the Spirit was sprinkling something from his torch onto the purchases of passerby. The countenances of each became happier. The Spirit sprinkled it on two men about to get into a fight, and they ended up shaking hands before parting amicably.

"What kind of potion is that?" He was curious. It looked like some pretty strong stuff.

"It is one of my own."

"It must be quite powerful." Severus observed, waiting for the properties of such an elixir to be expounded upon, but all he got from the Giant was a grunt.

They kept walking, observing the merriment. It was fascinating to see the Giant move with such grace through the narrow side streets barely wide enough even to admit him. Hagrid would never have been able to accomplish that. He meandered it seemed, with no purpose, but they ended up at a particular stoop. Severus looked to the Giant questioningly, but the Spirit only gestured for him to walk through the door.

Severus reluctantly did. He found himself to be in a dark entryway that looked as if it hadn't been dusted for a few years. They continued on to the parlor, where Severus was astounded to see a little boy pouting in a cage.

"What is the meaning of this, Spirit?" Severus asked, scowling.

"Patience," the Giant said, leaning against the mantel.

A woman bustled in, vaguely familiar to Severus. A witch from one of the old families, he decided, observing the pinched face and mannerisms. The woman's eyes softened in sympathy though when she saw the pouting boy.

"I know it must be hard for you, Teddy, to be shut up in that cage on Christmas day, but no one can change the fact that there'll be a full moon tonight. It's best that we keep you and the rest of Scotland safe with such a precaution. I don't want the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures breathing down my neck. Last month you turned sooner than expected and I barely got you in the cage on time."

The little boy, who looked to be no older than seven, sniffed, his lip trembling.

"I don't want to be like this. Please say it will be over soon, Granny," he pleaded, and Severus saw the woman turn away to hide her own tears.

"There's no helping it, Teddy," she said, her voice hoarse. She cleared her throat and turned around, her face dry. "We'll just have to make the most of what blessings we do have."

With that, the woman, now recognizable to Severus as Andromeda Tonks, bustled around the room, setting up a small table by the cage and covering it in a tablecloth. She left the room and brought back the utensils and dishes needed to set a table for two. She even took a candle and placed it in the center, its warm light making the dim room appear less shabby. The boy perked up when she brought in a decent sized roast.

Severus observed closely the wan tint to the young boy's skin, as if he'd never had a true night's sleep in his whole young life. He noted the shabby clothes hanging off his thin frame, no doubt caused by the stress of having his little weak body transformed every month. He saw the unquenched hunger in those dark eyes as they eyed the food. He knew they boy had little chance of going on like this without serious complications.

"Is there anything to be done for him, Spirit? Will he be able to get through this?"

"I see an empty cage, claw marks in the wallpaper, and an abandoned house. If his life goes on unaltered, there will be no future for him."

Severus was usually unmoved by such things, as they were facts of life, but he saw a little of himself in this boy. "No, tell me he'll be spared this fate."

"People must take on their own responsibility. If they wish to die, let them." The Spirit flung his own cruel words back at him, and he felt the shame of having ever said them. "Next time you should think of who you might be condemning before you do so. Is it up to you which man shall live, and which shall die? It may be that in the sight of Heaven you are more worthless and less fit to live than many just like this child."

Severus trembled and could not look at the Spirit, such was the guilt that plagued him.

"Please take me from this place, Spirit," he said quietly. The Spirit held out his green robe for the Professor to touch, and it was once again as if they had portkeyed to their next destination, which happened to be Hogwarts.

They appeared in a dungeon corridor very familiar to Severus, as it was where his private rooms were located. Just as he was about to ask the Spirit the significance of such a venue, he heard footsteps approaching, and Hermione Granger walked out from around the corner. She was wearing a festive champagne colored dress and carrying with her a medium package, wrapped in silver with gold ribbon. Severus was surprised at how well she looked. Her hair was silky smooth, though still curly. She must have spent hours on it, no doubt preparing for the second-rate party that was to be held in the staff room that night.

She stopped at the door leading to Severus' private chambers and knocked politely. A few seconds passed by and she knocked again, a little louder. No answer. Severus stuck his head through the wall to see if there was even anyone in the room, and saw himself, prominently seated in the middle of the room, reading from the latest potions magazine. He was completely ignoring the knock of the door. Visiting hours were over.

He observed as Granger looked up and down the hallway before sighing and placing the present flush against the door. Then she left. Not a minute after, the school poltergeist came zooming around the corner, making a ruckus and bouncing off walls. He noticed the glinting present and paused, cackling and rubbing his grubby hands together.

"Oooh, ickle Sevie Wevie's got a presie, has he? What about Peeves? Where is _Peeve's_ present? Snapey's been a bad boy this year. No presies for _him_!"

And with that, the ghost picked up the present and tossed it about, playing catch with himself as he continued to zoom down the hallway once again.

"Peeves!" Severus roared after him, his wand out and ready for a good hexing.

The Spirit laid a hand on his wand arm as he aimed, "You cannot do anything about this at the moment."

Severus grumbled about the thieving ghost as he put his wand away.

"Imagine, even after the horrid way you treat her, she still thought enough of you to bring you a present," the Spirit remarked candidly.

"I never asked for one," Snape said, irritated that he was being called out by a Giant he'd only met a little while ago.

"She knew you never would, Severus. You are far too proud to ask for anything. You cannot isolate yourself. It is not living. And when you are not living, Severus, you are essentially dead." The Spirit gestured to the hallway Granger had left, "There are many who wish to reach out to you, but you have cut off any chance of them getting close to you. When will you see that you can renew your life and make it better than it once was?"

"How can I just forget all that I am, all that I've done?"

"You say that, but your past does not embody all that you are. You need to be able to look at where you are now and decide to change. There is more to you than you have shown this world. I can see into your heart. Now, I have one more place to show you."

Severus took hold of his robes, not wishing to talk anymore on the subject.

They appeared in the staff room, decked out as it was for the holidays with holly, glitter, ornaments and the occasional mistletoe, one of which was occupied by a flustered Madam Pince and a smirking Filch.

"Just a peck my dear and you can be on your way," He murmured, but the glint in his eyes and the way he grasped her upper arms told a different story. The librarian struggled against him in vain. The old craggy man planted a big smooch on her before finally letting go. "There now, that wasn't so bad, eh? Care for another?"

Her response was a resounding slap, before she stalked away to the punch bowl for something to gargle with.

Severus smirked at that. Madam Pince was always so stuffy, but he knew the kiss had gotten to her by the way she kept glancing over at the school's caretaker, who waggled his eyebrows in return. She huffed and took a big swig of the spiked punch in her hand. No doubt she'd be tipsy by the end of the party. Filch was counting on it.

Severus heard laughing and turned to see Draco observing the couple as well. He stood next to Luna Lovegood, who had her arm wrapped around his, as well as Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, who was apprenticing under Professor Sprout.

"I wish I could see Severus stuck under one of those things with a poor soul. The Weasley Twins sure are cruel to put a compulsion charm into their mistletoe," Draco said.

"I'm sure it was more than a charm that caused that little scene," Luna remarked with a distracted air. She always seemed to appear up in the clouds to Severus, though her observations, when shared, were usually spot on.

The others chuckled.

"Speaking of my Godfather," Draco continued, "You should have heard what he said today. When I wished him a Merry Christmas, he said," Draco scowled and crossed his arms, getting into his imitation, "' It is just another day to be bogged down with the problems of adolescents and the false platitudes of others trying to believe their selves merry.' Can you believe that? I'm sure I can't think of a happier time than I'm having right now. I've got my freedom, I've got my girl, and I've got my Christmas Cheer," He said, squeezing Luna to his side as he raised his cup of spiked punch.

"Hear, hear," Neville cheered, clinking glasses with him, then downing his in one gulp.

Severus observed Draco's interaction with Luna, and found the couple to be a good match, surprisingly. Luna's outfit complemented Draco's in its sedate color and understated cut just as her calm personality complemented his verboseness. He felt a twinge of jealousy but brushed it away. He should be happy for his Godson's fortune, even though it came about in a most unusual and unexpected match. He should have taken time to meet her before. Draco had been asking him for months to come to dinner with them. He decided next time he would accept.

"He's quite funny, in his mannerisms, even if he's not the warmest man you'll ever meet. I think though, that his offences carry their own punishment, and I have no wish to add onto his self-inflicted grievances," Draco continued.

"He's quite intelligent," Luna said quietly.

"Doesn't do him much good, as no one will stick around in his company long enough to benefit from it, and he hardly is one who wishes to share what he knows. He pitched a right fit when he heard from McGonagall that Granger was to apprentice with him! I'd say I'd prefer him infinitely better if he were of mediocre intelligence and in want for some company! But he will have no one, and no one will have him, that's for sure!"

"I'm sorry for that," Luna murmured consolingly.

"It doesn't change my opinion that he is still a good man, deep down. I'll be forever grateful for the trials he took on to get me out of the mess I'd made for myself. I just wish he could learn to loosen up a bit. The only one who _really_ suffers from his actions is himself. He feels that he cannot afford to shake off his persona that he has built up over the years and have a little fun. The consequence? He has missed another mediocre staff Christmas party."

"I'd hardly call this mediocre," Luna said, smiling up at her beau. He smiled back down at her.

"Right you are. He is the one who misses out. The dungeons are hardly anything close to the cheerfulness of this room. I'm still not going to stop my effort to bring him out of his shell. I'll invite him to every little party I go to if I have to, if only for the slightest chance that he might say yes one day. If I can do something good for him, I mean to do it. There is no way I could ever hope to repay him for what he has done for me, but I must try my best to give him as much as I can back," Draco looked around at all the serious faces, and a wide smile broke out on his face, "Now, let's get a bit more festive. Luna, how about we take a stroll around the room and see how many bunches of mistletoe will compel us to kiss each other."

"I'm sure I won't need any to feel compelled, Draco," she said softly, walking demurely at his side.

He paused to bend down and kiss her tenderly before standing tall and pointing to a part of the room with mistletoe in abundance.

"Let's start over there."

They walked away with Neville and Hermione staring after, both a bit wistful. The two stood quietly by and watched others of the staff dance precariously around the middle of the room to the warbling of the wizarding wireless network.

"Shall we?" Neville gestured.

"I think I'll just stand here for a bit and drink some punch, but thank you, Neville." Hermione smiled at the young man warmly. The boy nodded and walked over to Professor Sprout, where they started talking animatedly, no doubt about something in the greenhouses.

Severus hissed as he unclenched his hands, looking at them to see half-moon marks from his nails digging into his palms. He rubbed them against his robes absently as he observed his apprentice, for once not dressed in the all-encompassing black robe that was her usual garb. It gave him strange feelings that he hadn't dealt with in a long time, if ever; Feelings which could only lead to trouble. Still, he couldn't look away.

After what could have been a couple minutes or an hour of observation, Severus was jolted out of his musing by a cleared throat. He turned to see the Giant, but it appeared as though the Spirit had been caught by an ageing line, for he had a long silver beard and his curling hair matched it. He seemed frail, as if a bit of wind could have knocked him over. Odd, for a Giant.

"Are Spirit's lives so short?" he asked in amazement, and some pity.

"My life is very brief. It ends tonight at midnight."

Severus noticed something peeking out from a fold in the Giant's robe. It looked like a claw, or was that an emaciated human hand?

"Spirit, forgive me if I am being rude, but what is that?" He gestured to the claw. The Spirit pulled back his robes to reveal two figures. They looked human-like, but had a quality about them that reminded him somewhat of the Grindylows in the lake. They were unhealthily skinny, their ratty clothes flowing around their forms, revealing flesh stretched tautly over bone.

"Are they yours?" Severus asked, not a little disgusted.

"They are Man's. This," He gestured to one, "is Ignorance, and this," the other, "is Want. Beware of them both, but especially the first. You cannot hope to live without shaking off the delusion you believe to be your true self."

The bell struck Twelve and the Spirit was gone. At the last ringing, he remembered that the third Spirit would be visiting. He looked around the empty streets of what appeared to be Hogsmeade after dark, and the figure that floated out from the mist caused him to gasp and fall back to the cobblestones, fumbling for his wand as true terror spiked within him.

"Voldemort," he rasped out, prostrating himself.

Next up: Severus faces hard facts with the third Spirit.


	4. The Last of the Spirits

A/N: Here we are with the last of the Spirits…

A Hogwarts Christmas Carol

Chapter 4: The Last of the Spirits

Severus could see the dark figure slowly approaching, and with each second his fear and terror rose higher. He started shivering. Why wasn't he being hexed yet? The Dark Lord would surely never forgive his degree of duplicity. Yes, it would be a long, slow torture. He tensed with expectation.

Senses sharpened by adrenalin, Severus startled when he heard the tell-tale rattling of breath. He looked up once again after a moment's indecision to find that his first observations were false. Voldemort had not come seeking vengeance. In his place was a Dementor.

Visibly relieved, Severus quickly fired off an _Expecto Patronum_, using his relief to buoy his Patronus, whose form had surprisingly changed. He watched as the silver hawk dove for the Dementor, only to fly through it, as if it were just a hallucination. The hawk dissipated, and Severus was still left with a Dementor that was apparently immune to Patronuses.

The Dementor didn't move any closer and he lowered his wand slowly, though still alert to the possibility of an attack.

The Dementor seemed to radiate darkness, its cloak flowing about it as it hovered a few feet in the air. Its face was thankfully concealed in shadow. The face of a Dementor was said to only show when about to feed on a hapless victim. Severus had no desire to see such a visage up close. Only it's pale, scarred, and boney hands stood out from the rest of its dark form. It loomed over him, silent but for the rattling of its indrawn breath.

"Are you the Spirit of what is to come?" Severus didn't know whether to expect any response, but watched as the Dementor raised its hand to point off to another direction.

"You are to show me what has not happened yet, but will happen in the future?" Severus wished for clarification. It was hard to take all of it in at once. The Dementor inclined its head, the folds of its hood rippling.

Severus waited a moment to compose his self, but it didn't help. The presence of the Dementor, though it seemed illusory and of a different temperament than that typical of its species, still had two affecting attributes: the ability to make the area around it cold, and its talent of inspiring the worst fears in those about it.

Not sensing any difference of feeling after a few minutes, Severus decided his best bet would be to go in the direction the Spirit was pointing, and hopefully put some distance between them.

"Lead on," he encouraged it to go ahead, not trusting it enough to turn his back on it.

The Dementor moved off in the direction it had pointed, and Severus followed in its shadow, as if unwillingly compelled to follow at a certain distance. They ended up, curiously enough, going into the Quiddich shop, in which a few people were making last minute purchases. Severus admitted to himself that it was a most peculiar thing to see a Dementor walk into the store, as if interested in the wares there.

As he entered, he zeroed in on two familiar voices that made his eyes narrow and his mouth grimace in distaste. Of course _they_ would be in here; Potter and Weasley. It seemed Weasley worked here, and he and Potter were catching up before the former closed shop.

"She comes to me, bawling her eyes out, as if she really cared for the git! I've heard of some former students already planning celebrations and book burnings! You'd think she'd be the happiest of them all after the way he treated her all those years. Hermione's no saint, but she's damn near close to one as a person _can_ be without putting on airs. And he still treated her as the dirt under his feet! I ought to go stomp on his grave. It might help me get over all the times she couldn't even muster up a smile when she came to visit!"

"Ron, it's true he didn't treat her all that well, but I still think, deep inside, he had respect for her-"

"Respect! Respect doesn't mean having her work her fingers to the bone while he sits back and tinkers with his useless experiments, all the while griping at her technique! I know you like to see the good in people, but let's face it, Harry. There's not a smidgeon of good in that man, no matter that he helped us defeat Voldemort. I'm sure what he did was all for his own gain. Selfish bastard!"

"Ron, let's not talk about this subject anymore. You've got to close shop and I've got to go see to Ginny. She's expecting any day now, and has the oddest cravings. Merlin, but I love her."

"Alright, Harry, but we should both stop by the castle tomorrow and see how Hermione's doing. She's not the most stable witch right now."

"Sounds good. See you later," and with a wave, Potter walked out the door, Leaving Weasley to start cleaning.

"Bat-winged bloody Git," the red-head muttered, scrubbing the counter vigorously.

The Dementor left the shop, Severus following as he tried to put the pieces together. Granger was really upset. Weasley was upset that Granger was upset over someone's … death? He shivered and didn't want to follow that train of thought any further.

He followed the Dementor through the crowds down the street. Suddenly, he noticed a woman frantically racing from person to person, desperately asking them something. Severus pulled his robes about himself, even invisible as he was to her. She was soon close enough for him to hear what she was saying.

"Have you seen my boy?" She asked desperately to a young couple, who looked uncomfortable. The woman thrust a picture under the wizard's nose. "That's what he looks like. That's my Teddy. Have you seen him?"

They shook their heads and walked away quickly. The woman moved on to the next people she could see, saying the same thing and getting the same answer. Her eyes shone with unshed tears and panic, her breathing ragged, her robes soiled and torn at the hem as if she'd been walking the streets for days. Dirt smudged her face, dried tear tracks from earlier bouts of crying apparent. It was Andromeda Tonks.

She leaned against the brick wall of a building, her arms wrapped around her to conserve some warmth. She kept muttering the same word over and over, under her breath, not unlike a desperate mantra.

"Please, please, please, please, please …"

Then a ratty newspaper caught her eye, its pages blotted with dirt as if stepped on quite a few times. She hesitated before lifting it out of the gutter it lay in, smoothing the wrinkles out of the front page. Her eyes darted over it, trying to take it in, but seeming to not understand it. She shook her head and blinked, a low keen building up within her until she dropped the paper back into the gutter and shrank back once again to the wall, curling in on herself and rocking back and forth, wrapping her arms tightly around her. Her body shook with the force of her sobs.

Severus stepped nearer, wishing to comfort her. He saw the paper and bent closer to read it. The first page headline read, '_More success in the hunting of rogue werewolves: Minister says Greyback's reign is obsolete_.'

Frowning, Severus looked up from the paper to find he was not in Hogsmeade anymore, but at Hogwarts. They were in the library.

Madam Pince was smiling, something that never occurred. She was speaking to the Headmistress.

"I'd be very pleased to make room for all of the books not too dangerous for the children. He did have dark tastes at times with his literature, but I should be delighted to sort through it. Maybe the ones not appropriate for students can be put on the staff room's shelves?"

"Yes, Irma, I think that would be lovely, though the former owner might roll in his grave at the thought of such valuable tomes in the hands of _dunderheads_," the women chuckled softly, "He always was an odd duck. Always shut up like a tin of sardines, not letting anyone in and no chance of getting anything out of him! I can't say I know one person that was closer to him than Dumbledore or I, and that was hardly close at all!"

Irma nodded in agreement, and they started chatting on about some other person or another. Either way, Severus wasn't listening. He didn't want to connect the dots, even though he knew where this was leading. The Dementor started out in a different direction, and he was actually relieved to follow, hoping to empty his mind to the thoughts flooding in.

They ended up in the staff quarters, the Dementor drifting through a door that used to be one of the unused married teacher apartments. As Severus followed, he saw that it was in use now. A woman, one he immediately recognized, though she had advanced in age a decade or so, sat at a table reading a cut out piece of newspaper. She wiped her eyes and pushed the article away as her husband walked into the room, turning to him with a tremulous smile.

"On about the professor again, are you?" the man asked, awkwardly patting her on the shoulder, "It'll get better with time, dear. Why, when my gram died it was quite hard, even though she had always been mean to me. I realized after all was done that it was just her way of caring for me. Never got to thank her for it, or tell her I understood, but I'm sure she knows by now, wherever she's at. Still, it's strange that he would die of a potion's accident. I always thought he was quite vigilant about it. Now you'll be the one to carry on his legacy, as the next professor to teach Potions, and I know you'll do just brilliant at it, Hermione. Someone else can easily be found for the Muggle Studies position, though you might want to sit in on a few of their lessons, just to make sure they have it all right. That class was positively medieval before you took charge of it!"

The man gave her a kiss on the forehead, and Severus noticed once again that his nails were biting into his skin.

"Just know that I'm proud of you, and I'm sure he'd tell you he was as well, if he could. He never gave much praise to anyone, but if he did, I'm sure it'd be for you."

"Thanks Neville," the curly haired woman smiled softly up at the man, "You always seem to know what to say."

Neville flushed and patted her shoulder once again before turning, "I'm going to go and check on the Flutterby bush in Greenhouse 4. It's about time to prune it again."

With that, the gangly man stepped out of the room, leaving the woman once again to herself. She pulled the newspaper clipping back to her and traced the image fondly with a finger.

"You might not have been the kindest man, and not many will remember what you've done for them over what you've done _to_ them, but I will. I will remember you and miss you. Goodbye."

With that, she walked over to the fireplace and let the paper fall. It incinerated upon contact with the flames, and the woman smiled softly yet sadly at letting it go. She turned to the pantry and started pulling things out to make supper. Severus watched for a few minutes before turning to face the third Spirit. He felt almost wistful. Married life seemed quite comfortable.

He followed the Spirit down the castle, eventually ending up in the corridor that led to the potions classroom and his rooms. The classroom had caution tape over its doorway and was warded heavily against those wishing to go in, but the door was gone, as if blasted off. Severus peeked into the darkened room to see broken glass and spilled ingredients everywhere. He shuddered as he thought that no one could survive such an explosion.

He followed the Dementor to his rooms and through them, even though they were heavily warded against intrusion as well. The Spirit pointed its gnarled finger to his bedroom. Severus instantly dreaded what could be inside.

He reluctantly walked to the doorway and peered inside. There, on his utilitarian metal-framed bed, lay a body wrapped in a sheet.

It did not move. It wasn't asleep.

He backed away into the study, shakily sitting down in a chair by the empty fireplace. The whole room was gloomy as he looked around it. There were no mementos or pictures to look at and feel cheerful about, no company or even mourners about to feel the loss of the person in the bed.

Severus would give no name to that person, though he now knew it to be no other than himself.

He thought hard about his life, the misery he drew around himself, as he did his robes. This was a life he had made for himself, not one that was given to him. He knew that now.

There had been plenty of chances to better his self after Voldemort had been defeated, many of which he shot down immediately in his harsh manner, others of which drifted by without notice, so caught up as he was in the desolation his life had been. He had in no way looked out from his own self to see that others wished to know him and help him. And when bothered from his brooding, he would snarl and snap as violently as any beast. If it was ever known that a man bit the hand that fed him, Severus very often figuratively bit _off_ the hand that even dared get near him. It was self defense in the extreme.

Severus could now admit his error. He knew now, even as he had denied it to himself before, that he must change. If he did not, all the things he had seen _would_ come true. He had no doubt of _that_.

The Spirits had helped him gain perspective, for which he would be eternally grateful. He turned to the third Spirit soberly.

"Spirit, this is an awful place. In leaving it, I shall not leave its lesson, trust me."

All of a sudden, they were by Dumbledore's grave, but next to it was a new headstone, an obelisk black as the former Headmaster's grave was white. Severus trembled. He didn't want to see the cold hard fact that was repeated over and over in his mind: he was a dead man. Not dead yet, but would be, slowly living out this miserable existence until he gave up on life altogether.

"Before I draw near to the grave, Spirit, answer me one question. Are these shadows of the things that _will_ be or are they shadows of the things that _may_ be?" Severus wouldn't be comfortable without that answer. It was obviously not the Spirit's concern whether he was comfortable though, as it continued to point silently to the grave.

"Tell me that, if I change my ways, this bleak future will also be changed for better. Tell me!"

Still, the Spirit continued only to point, cold, unmoved by Severus' desperation.

Willing this to be over with, Severus stepped forward until he could read the writing on the black obelisk. It said, 'SEVERUS SNAPE.'

At the sight of his name, the idea of his body laid to rest in the ground, Severus' legs gave out beneath him, and he fell to his hands and knees, retching.

Wiping his mouth, he looked up to the Dementor who loomed above him, almost condemning him.

"No, Spirit! Oh, no, no!"

The finger now pointed to him.

"Spirit!" He clutched his robe about him, "hear me! I am not the man I was! I will not be the man I must have been but for your intervention. Why show me this, if I am past all hope?"

The hand appeared to waver.

"Great Spirit," he groveled if once again in the presence of his former master, pleading for leniency, "pity me. Tell me that I can still change these things you have shown me by an altered life!"

The hand trembled.

"I promise to embrace the life given so generously to me! I will not forget my past, but learn from it. I will better myself. Give me this chance to prove myself! Give me this chance to erase those words from that tomb!"

He caught the Dementor's hand in his in his passion and froze, shocked that he could even touch what he thought to be hallucination, let alone grasp its hand in entreaty.

As he stared, half in hope, half in horror, the Dementor shrank in on itself, collapsing, before dwindling down into a bedpost. His bedpost.

A/N: How do you like that for a twist? Next up is the fifth and final chapter, in which Severus seeks to better himself, and not a few people are surprised!


	5. The End of It

A/N: Here's the final chapter. I'm sorry it took so long to finish, and not before Christmas, but I wanted the ending to be perfect. Thanks to everyone for reading and for those of you who showed your support by reviewing. I love feedback! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!

A Hogwarts Christmas Carol

Chapter 5: The End of It

Severus blinked as he grasped the bedpost, broadening his view to the room around it. Everything looked … normal. There were no mementos from former Death Eaters lurking in corners, no fantastical spirits waiting for him to grasp their hand and follow them through a sea of memories, made and unmade. It truly had felt as though he'd lived a whole lifetime from the moment Lucius Malfoy appeared before him.

And now, Severus determined, his life was beginning anew. He would not forget the horrors he had seen decking his future, and his conscious told him it was exactly the future he would have if he did not change. Change was hard, but Severus had been through hard times already, hadn't he? And in this case, the end results would hopefully yield a better situation for him and those around him. He thought back on the sight of Hermione in her pretty dress. Yes, indeed.

"Ha!"

The exclamation caught him so by surprise that he looked around to see who could have done it. No one but himself. He chuckled nervously at his own enthusiasm. He was starting to feel not a little giddy.

Severus fell back on the bed with a huff, the corners of his mouth quirking up. He stared up at the ceiling, contemplating what he should do first. Talk to Hermione? Go and see Mrs. Tonks and her poor boy? Maybe even show up at the staff Christmas party this evening. He would no doubt get some enjoyment out of all the shocked faces.

Before he could decide, there was a knock on his door. He sat up, frowning. Who could be at his door at this time?

Severus shook his head at himself. He didn't even know what time it was! Or what day, matter of fact.

Realizing his clothing wasn't suitable for greeting people at the door, he threw on his black teaching robes over his nightshirt, haphazardly buttoning a few buttons, no doubt to the wrong button holes, and ran his fingers through his lank hair as he hurried to the door, an almost unnoticeable skip to his step.

As he walked through his office, he noted the lack of food littering every surface, the absence of bows on his jars of pickled things. In a good humor, he swished his wand and each jar had a nice green bow wrapped festively about it. He then proceeded to the door, just as another knock sounded. Upon opening it, he found Hermione to be there, her pretty dress on and a present in her hands. It was as though he was sucked back into the memory with the second Spirit, though this time he was answering the door, not ignoring it purposefully.

Her throat cleared and he focused again on her. She appeared to be trying her hardest to look him in the eyes, though her gaze had clearly been drifting over his sloppily buttoned robes and the slippers covering his feet. Severus was always dressed to the nines in public, every button buttoned and not a speck of dust to be found on his robes. To see him like this must be quite a shock.

"I-I'm terribly sorry, Professor, if I've come at a bad time, only, I came to give you this?"

Her little speech came out more a questioning squeak, as though not sure how to react. She thrust the gift out towards him, as if to place a barrier between them or distract him with it while she made her get-away. The corners of his mouth quirked up once again, much to the notice of his apprentice. The present looked to be in danger of falling. He took it from her.

"Thank you Miss Granger. Do you mind…" he paused as he saw her expression turn incredulous, no doubt because he had never thanked her before, "Can you oblige me by telling me what time it is? Oh, and what day?"

Her look became almost afraid.

"Are you ok, sir? Should I send for Madam Pomphrey?"

"No, no," he waved off her concern, "I just need to know if it's not too late to start up some Wolfsbane before the staff party tonight."

"Staff party?" She squeaked out, but then the rest of his sentence was absorbed, and her eyes took on the greedy look they always had when an opportunity to gain more knowledge was at hand. "You're going to make _Wolfsbane_? I've been _dying_ to learn how that's done! And I thought you'd quit after, well, Lupin and I thought I'd _never_ have the chance to ask you if I could sit in for a teensy bit and watch or, I don't know, look at your notes, but you're really going to brew it? _Tonight_?"

She was almost breathless by the end of her rant, and Severus raised an eyebrow.

"Time, Granger. Day and time first."

She blinked.

"Oh, yes, it's Christmas day, and just a bit after lunchtime. That's actually the reason I came down here. Minerva was worried when you missed Christmas brunch and I had this present I was going to hand to you at the time, so she thought it prudent for me to come down and see that you were alright, since you'd never missed a Christmas brunch before…" She looked him over again, "You _are_ alright, aren't you?"

Severus was mumbling to himself about when would be best to brew when he caught the tail end of her remarks.

"Yes, I'm quite alright. I was up late brewing last night. I'll have to start the Wolfsbane tomorrow, as its first stage requires my complete attention for the first five hours. You said you wish to watch? I'll do better than that, Granger. How would you like to help me brew it? It's always a struggle doing it myself, and I'd never had anyone competent enough to help me with it before. Granger?"

Severus observed the witch as she looked at him, hyperventilating, eyes glittery. He snapped his fingers and she focused on him once again.

"You really want me to help you t-to _brew_ the Wolfsbane?" Her voice was more breathless than before.

"I wouldn't have offered if I did not."

"Oh, _yes_!" The witched jumped and clapped her hands, before flushing and clutching them behind her back. Severus watched with amusement. Change wouldn't be so hard if the benefits always turned out to be this amusing.

"Well, I better get back to, uh, back," she chuckled nervously, still embarrassed at her childish behavior. Severus observed it all with glee, though he kept his face neutral. "Have a Happy Christmas, Professor."

She waved back at him as he watched her disappear down the hallway. Right after she left, Peeves came bouncing down the corridor, just as in the vision the Spirit showed him. Severus narrowed his eyes and cracked the door so only the tip of his wand poked out. He aimed before muttering a spell, causing the poltergeist's ectoplasm to congeal and drip to the ground, the ghost howling in anger.

Severus retreated back into his office, shutting the door, a smug smile on his face. The little pest needed to be taught a little lesson this Christmas as well. He had no right to go and steal presents from people. Never mind the fact that he hadn't stolen the present since Severus had answered the door and received it himself, but it was the thought that counted, right?

Severus shuffled into his bathroom, willing to see what Hermione had seen when he opened the door on her. He groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. No wonder the witch was surprised. Severus had the worst rooster tail sticking out from the back of his head.

Two hours later, and considerably better groomed, the Potions Master could be seen striding down to corridors of the school, whistling a Celestina Warbeck Christmas tune. The sparse amounts of students walking those same corridors were unable to stop gaping in astonishment, some even scuttling off in fear, whispering to their nearest neighbor, 'Snape's finally gone mad!'

One student managed to trip and fall on his face as he walked by, not able to remove his gaze from the professor. His friend helped him to his feet. Severus paused. If this continued, it could get more hazardous. He had to do something.

"Five points from Ravenclaw for not watching where you're going," he barked out, the students frowning, "And five points to Ravenclaw for helping a fellow student." He continued on, leaving the students staring after him. He smirked. That might have made things worse.

He made his way down to the kitchens, intent on getting some leftovers from brunch before the staff Christmas party. No doubt there'd be nothing nutritious there.

Much to his surprise, he opened the portrait door to find that Miss Granger was in the kitchen.

"Bothering the house elves again, Miss Granger?" He asked, not unkindly. She startled, but turned with an uncertain smile, a bowl in one hand and a spoon in the other. She was mixing something. He could tell that she was still wary about his change in character.

"Ah, so now you're taking over their duties and making the Christmas feast yourself," he smirked. She let out a small 'hrmph' before turning back to her work.

"If you must know, this is for the Christmas party. Minerva wanted me to make something I enjoyed eating when home with my parents. Something Muggle," She glanced over her shoulder, ready to censure any rude comment he might make, but he only nodded. She continued to stir, starting to pant as she labored. Her stirring arm was starting to shake as well, and Severus could tell she was getting tired. He strode over.

"It's not this strenuous at home, seeing as we have electric beaters to help us out," She explained. Severus observed the thick dough she was stirring, much of the flour still showing.

"Let me help," he said, and, to the surprise of both, covered her hands, showing the proper pressure and angle to stir in order to mix all of the flour in. It was a surprisingly intimate moment, and as they both relaxed into it Severus took the opportunity to discretely smell her hair. It was divine. After a minute or so of bliss, he looked down to realize that the dough had indeed been thoroughly mixed enough, and he hastily withdrew his hands. It appeared that Hermione hadn't realized either, if the flush on her face was saying anything, and Severus felt gratified to see it. He cleared his throat gruffly.

"What are you making?"

"Oh, um, Sugar cookies," she smiled up at him, "They're my Mum's favorite, but it takes a lot of time, what with the cookie cutting and frosting and such."

Severus nodded, though he had never baked anything in his life. He did know potions though, and sometimes they could take quite a while. Months even. At least cookies weren't volatile when the wrong amount of an ingredient was added.

He sat down at a nearby table and observed her discretely as he ate his food, pausing every now and then to appreciate the fluidity with which she worked, as if a in a silent dance, no movement a waste. He blushed and looked away when he caught himself staring at her hips swaying as she rolled out the dough. It was about time for him to go.

He took his plate to the sink, ignoring the hovering elves as he washed it and placed it in a nearby cabinet. Then he walked across to the counter where Hermione was now using cookie cutters in holiday shapes on the rolled out dough. He chuckled slightly as he noticed a few shaped like cauldrons and snitches.

"I like to have variety," Hermione said defensively as he raised an eyebrow at her. "Besides, wouldn't you rather be seen biting into a cauldron cookie than a sprinkle covered Christmas tree cookie?"

"I happen to like sprinkles," he replied in what used to pass for his most intimidating voice, but the contents of his sentence made the woman beside him toss back her head with laughter.

"Oh, Professor, I never knew you were so droll," she replied, wiping tears of mirth off her cheeks.

"Don't let it get around. I might have to … _punish_ you," Severus loomed over her, catching the slight hitch in her breath as the laughter in her eyes was replaced swiftly with surprise and awareness. Her cheeks flushed and she cleared her throat as she turned back to the dough, swiftly cutting more shapes out in a haphazard manner. Severus allowed himself one last sniff of her tantalizing perfume before turning and leaving the kitchen. He savored her reaction all the way back to his rooms.

He stayed only long enough to grab his traveling cloak and a few vials of potion before heading towards the front gates of the school. After a brisk walk through the snow, he entered Hogsmeade, surrounded suddenly by the bustle and gaiety of well-wishers and friends. All of the stores besides The Three Broomsticks and The Hog's Head were closed, but that didn't dampen the holiday atmosphere one bit. Severus half expected to see the Giant wandering fluidly through the crowds. He followed the path they had taken in his vision the night before, and wound up at the exact same ramshackle house as before, only this time he couldn't pass through it without notice.

He rapped sharply on the roughly wood-grained door and stepped back patiently. After a minute or so, it opened, and a woman poked her head around, suspicious and nervous.

"What is it you want?" her eyes narrowed at his dark cloak, "Are you from the ministry?"

"No, Madam," Severus replied in a solemn manner, "I am an … acquaintance to your late son-in-law. I wished to speak with you quickly on a delicate manner, something that should be of great benefit to you."

The woman looked him over once again, her suspicion still intact, but Severus understood such fear. She hesitated before opening the door wider, letting him pass her before closing it quickly. She turned to him there in the hallway, arms folded as if for comfort and to appear defiant all at once.

"Yes?" she inquired sharply.

"You may not know, but I grew up with Lupin and, through certain circumstances, became aware that he was a werewolf. We also worked in the Order together, and, during that time, I was able to provide relief of some degree to him concerning the side-effects he experienced. I understand he has progeny now living with you and I am willing to provide you with the potion I brewed for him to give to his son. I know it is something Lupin would have liked. The potion is called Wolfsbane. It will not stop the transformation, or the pain of it, but it will allow Lupin's son to keep his mental faculties so that he may do no harm to himself or others while in his other form."

The stern look on Andromeda Tonks' face wilted into one that was vulnerable and hopeful. Tears sprang to her eyes, even as she glared at Severus.

"Why," she got out in a hoarse voice, "Why would you want to help? Why after seven years of Remus being dead have you shown up here?"

Severus looked her right in the eyes.

"I know it may not seem plausible, but I have been distracted by my own hurts and afflictions so long that I never thought to look past myself at what others have been living through until recently. I only hope you will forgive me for taking so long to come to my senses. It must have been a struggle learning how to raise a boy inflicted with lycanthropy in a world that is too quick to judge a group by a few of its less than savory individuals. Lupin was a good man, and I'm sure his son will defend his character with pride."

The woman sniffed but nodded, taking the handkerchief Severus provided. She turned away to compose herself before facing him once again.

"How do we proceed," she asked softly.

"I will start brewing the potion tomorrow. As I understand, the moon will be rising in approximately a week and a half. That will give the potion an adequate time to mature before the boy starts taking it, which must be every day of the week before the full moon."

The woman nodded. She hesitated before asking if Severus would like to see him. The man nodded and they walked to the sitting room, wherein was the boy in the cage, his hair a sandy colored mop on his head. He noticed the visitor and looked down at his feet in shame for his condition. Severus walked closer until he was right next to the cage. He looked the boy over, noticing all the symptoms he had seen before: how skinny he was, the dark circles under his eyes, and a slight shaking, though that could be nerves. He pulled a couple vials from his pocket, as well as a few bars of chocolate.

"Drink this," he thrust a vial between the bars of the cage containing a viscous orange liquid. Noting the suspicion on the boy's face, he told him it was a nutrient potion that would restore any deficiencies in vitamins and minerals that his body was in need of. Very nasty to the taste but very powerful. At a nod from his grandmother, he uncapped and drank it down, coughing hard at the taste and texture.

"You will need to get used to drinking foul potions, as you will have to do so for the foreseeable future, until I or one of my colleagues can discover a cure for your condition." Severus smirked at the boy's watery eyes. He didn't seem as peaky anymore though. Next Severus handed the boy a vial of red liquid. The boy uncapped it and a steady stream of steam swirled out.

"An Invigoration Draught, to give you some energy until tonight, when your grandmother will give you some Sleeping Draught," Severus said, handing the woman a vial of murky grey liquid. He raised an eyebrow as he observed Teddy's hair turn blue after drinking the potion, a sure sign that he was Nymphadora Tonks' son. He only hoped the boy didn't inherit her clumsiness as well. "Only three drops every night he needs it. This will get him asleep, but not keep him asleep. I doubt he will need any help with that, judging from what I see."

Andromeda nodded.

I will be back in half a week to administer the first of the Wolfsbane potion. Have a pleasant evening." Severus still couldn't bring himself to say Merry Christmas. It just wasn't in his nature to be jolly.

"Thanks to you, it will be," Andromeda said matter-of-factly. Severus nodded, pleased to find her a practical woman not prone to fits of overflowing emotion, like the Weasley matriarch. She led him back down the hallway and out the door. He didn't look back to see her staring after him as he strode briskly down the alleyway. He now had the staff party to get ready for.

When Severus stepped into the staff room with his best robes on, no one noticed at first, as the party was in full swing. He noted that all the decorations were the same, and that Argus still had Irma trapped beneath the mistletoe. He smirked as he witnessed the slap she gave him for the second time.

He heard laughing and saw the group containing his godson and apprentice along with their friends observing the couple as well. He sauntered over, unnoticed by Draco, as the boy was talking. The others of the group had seen him on his way over, and Neville and Hermione were trying subtly to tell the boy to shut up, while Luna just observed his approach serenely.

"I wish I could see Severus stuck under one of those things with a poor soul." Draco laughed. He noticed that the others didn't join in.

"And why would you wish such a thing, Draco," Severus drawled out, causing the young man to stiffen. He turned and looked up to Severus with a sheepish grin.

"Ah, well because it's such an enjoyable Christmas pastime, and I believe everyone should experience it. In fact, I was just about to take Luna for a walk around and make sure they all work."

"Ah yes, Miss Lovegood, it has been a while. I apologize for not speaking to you much since you became the Care of Magical Creatures professor. I'm pleased to see you with my godson, as he needs someone to keep him in line, and I cannot always be around."

"It's my pleasure to do so. It is good to see you looking so well this evening, professor. Draco?" Luna looked to her fiancé expectantly, and the blonde obligingly took her arm to tour the room.

The others observed Severus' outward transformation. He did indeed look very well, his robes fitted and his hair washed. He didn't have the air of neglect about him that had seemed to hover over him constantly before the previous night.

Severus turned to the two people left, Hermione smiling nervously and Neville just nervous. The boy might faint if prompted, Severus thought.

"Good evening, Mr. Longbottom, I trust your holiday has been enjoyable?"

Neville promptly fainted.

Hermione was quick to levitate the poor man and float him to a nearby sofa. She checked him over before returning to Severus, a smile fighting to show on her face.

"He will be fine," she murmured.

"Of course he will," replied Severus, "The boy's a magnetic attraction to accidents and he hasn't died yet. I'm sure a little swoon is just a drop in the bucket compared to most of the catastrophes he's probably gotten himself into."

Hermione smiled at him and he felt warm inside. Looking around for a distraction before he did something stupid, Severus noted the refreshment table.

"I believe I shall now try one of your cookies. It is said that a great potions master is only as good as his or her next meal. I believe that could apply to baked treats as well. It requires a precision in the amount of ingredients, the time cooked, and of course the, er, technique used when mixing." Severus felt his own cheeks turn a bit pink at his bold reference to their earlier encounter, but he was gratified to see the full-blown flush of her own as she looked away.

He walked over to the table almost groaning with the food and drinks upon it, and found a cauldron cookie, frosted in black, with black sprinkles barely noticeable on the surface. He chuckled and gave an appreciative glance at Hermione, who had slowly followed him over. He took a bite as she watched, and made a sound of pleasure at the delicious taste of the cookie. Her cheeks turned pink once again but she grinned.

"Not bad?"

"It's not ladylike to fish for complements, when you can clearly see from my expression that these cookies are definitely 'not bad.'" Severus raised an eyebrow, and she cheekily raised one back.

"Severus? Is that you?"

The man in question turned to see Minerva coming over, surprise on her face.

"Good evening, Minerva, the staff room looks festive." This caused even more astonishment to enter her expression.

"I'm quite surprised to see you here. I haven't seen you attend a staff party since, well, since Albus, and that was always under duress. What brings you here tonight of your own free will?"

"I have come to realize that it is time to move on from my past and leave it where it lies, instead of trying to carry it everywhere with me," Severus replied, and he could see tears start to form in the woman's eyes. Tears still made him uneasy, even if he was a changed man. "Stop blubbering Minerva. This won't be changing how many house points I'll be taking from Gryffindor tonight if I catch a single one of them out after curfew." That put a frown on the stern woman's face faster than most anything else.

"Well don't be so sour, you'll spoil the atmosphere. Neville's just barely come to." She harrumphed and walked away at the sight of his pleased smirk.

"You really are changed."

Severus turned to see Hermione observing him thoughtfully. He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by someone rudely grasping onto his arm. He grimaced when he realized it was Sybil.

"Sevvrusss," she slurred, giving up the fact that she'd already been at the spiked punch, "Ssho nice to Shee you here! Dance with meeeee!"

The woman was loud, and tugging him towards the middle of the staff room, where there was space for dancing. Severus looked to Hermione for relief but she just smirked and shrugged.

"I'll get you back," he mouthed at her as he was manhandled none-too-gently onto the dance floor. It seemed Sybil also wanted to lead the dance as well, steering them haphazardly around. Severus glared at the people who dared to laugh at his situation.

After a couple minutes Severus was relieved of his burden, as she forgot what she was doing and pulled away, zigzagging towards the refreshment table, no doubt for more punch. Severus straightened his clothing and headed back over to where Hermione was standing, conveniently beneath some mistletoe. She hadn't noticed it either.

Her eyes were glinting with laughter, but it turned once again into wariness as she noticed he wasn't slowing in his advance. Before she could protest, Severus pulled her to him by her upper arms and met her lips with his.

She froze for a moment before melting into the kiss and his arms, her hands grasping the front of his robes, her mouth softening enough that he could deepen the kiss for a few moments before pulling back. He was gratified to see her lips follow his retreat, and rewarded her with a last small kiss before pulling away. He watched as her eyelids fluttered open to showcase her dazed look.

"There," he rasped with a smirk, "my revenge."

At her confused look he pointed above them to the magical plant. She flushed prettily as she saw it before meeting his eyes again. She didn't say a word.

Severus thought of making a wise crack about that, but decided a gentle retreat would be necessary if he wanted her to think on this moment for the rest of the night.

"Tomorrow at nine AM I will start preparing the ingredients. Make sure to get a good night's rest."

"Ok," she breathed back, seemingly still shocked that she had snogged her former professor and current Potions Master. Her hands were reluctant to let go of his robes and she wobbled a little as he stepped away.

"Goodnight, Professor," She managed in a steady tone as he turned to leave.

"Goodnight, Hermione," he replied over his shoulder, wishing he could see her face, as it was the first time he had addressed her by her first name. Hopefully that would make it impossible for her to think of anyone else tonight.

The next morning as Severus pulled out all the ingredients needed to prepare for the Wolfsbane potion, Hermione stepped meekly into the lab. Her hair was pulled back in a flattering way, but she couldn't seem to meet his eyes. Severus smirked. He could read by her body language that she was even at this very second analyzing those moments they had been entangled the night before. He couldn't help the delicious tingle that swept up his spine as the memories came back to him as well.

He started to direct her in how to prepare the ingredients and she followed his instructions perfectly, as always, seeming to relax as she focused on the work. Severus had a great desire to see if he could make her uncomfortable again by his close contact, but he knew it would distract him as well and he didn't want to risk compromising the potion. The ingredients were expensive, and the work too time consuming for him to relish the thought of starting over, no matter how agreeable his lab partner was.

By the end of five hours both were slightly sweaty, not a little exhausted, and very happy, as the potion was stable enough now to let it sit for a few hours with no attention needed.

"I'm pleased at your work today, Hermione. Thank you."

The woman looked to Severus, her face flushed in pleasure at the compliment, and his eyes zeroed in on her lips with magnetic force. He pulled them back to her eyes with some effort, to see a hint of desire and a reassuring smile. She started towards him and he cleared his throat, looking around for something to occupy his hands.

"Severus."

This shocked him enough to look at the woman at his side, her cheeks red but eyes determined. He wondered if he was dreaming as she grabbed the front of his robes to pull him down for a kiss.

"You don't need mistletoe as an excuse to kiss me," she breathed before her lips touched his, and there was nothing intellectual to be heard in the lab for quite a long time after.

Severus really turned his life around, becoming conscious of and helping those in need around him. Though it took many years, he was able to cure Teddy Lupin and any other werewolf desirous of ridding themselves of lycanthropy. He stayed a good friend to the young man, even becoming something of a father-figure for the boy. This feat couldn't have been accomplished without his former apprentice, now current Potions Mistress and wife. Minerva had no hesitation in offering him the spot as Headmaster once she retired, and he gladly took it. He soon became a man more respected than feared in the Wizarding World, and if some people laughed at this alteration, he let them, for he was content and almost obliged to laugh himself because of it.

He was never visited again by the Spirits, but he thought of them now with fondness. He had become a man free of his past and the bitterness in it. His own transformation had allowed for a life infinitely happier than he could have thought possible. And that's the end of it.

A/N: Yay! All done! I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading and please review!


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